Only Real When Shared

Nate was wholly unsurprised to find that his initial reaction to Halo had been the correct one. It was cold, desolate, and filled with bears and other things that probably only actually existed in his imagination. Probably. He tried to keep the memories of horror movies out of his head while they explored, he didn’t need that on top of the actual dangers they could face. It had been suggested, at some point, by someone (if he thought too hard about who he knew he’d bear some resentment, and since his options were Sam or the Voice, he tried to not think about it) that he and Sam wander the wasteland, while others explored the citadel and whatever lurked there. Then, Sam, and this one he could blame on Sam, suggested they split up. To cover more ground. To get out of here sooner rather than later.

It wasn’t quite clear when the ice beneath him stopped being supported by ground and started being supported by water, but Nate realized it eventually, and paused, to take stock of his location and look around. How much further did he have to go to consider this place explored? How far had he gone already? On a whim, he turned around and started heading back, catching sight of... something, behind him. Some structure, more interesting than the flat of everything else, so he headed towards it.

Well. Not a structure, per se, more a frozen altar of bubbles, offerings left scattered around it. Nate looked at it, humming, and reached out to touch one of the bubbles curiously. It was more delicate than he’d thought, shattering under his finger. He’d hoped that his lack of warmth would have kept it at least a little safer. Sitting in front of it, Nate thought a moment, then reached into his bag, pulling out a silver coin, one he’d kept with him since arriving here, and a small knife, using the latter to dig into his thumb enough to draw fluid. He let it drip over the alter, then called to the Voice, hoping she would answer, and shed some light on what exactly he was doing. [say]”Mother. I’ve... been exploring for you. I’m a little lost right now though, and... I guess I’d like some guidance.”[/say]

It is not Mother that comes to the shrine.

In fact, it isn’t anything, really. The frozen bubble Nate has popped remains fractured, the bubbles beneath where he has placed his fluid begin to fracture and break as well. Whatever is here, is not happy.

In a matter of seconds, a series of icy pale wraiths from souls long passed have him surrounded, some voices in unison, some incoherent, flood his head his head. The words garbled and jumbled together, but one thing can be heard loud and clear above all else. Abomination.

Then, as quickly as they had arrived, they vanish. Leaving Nate alone.

Nate blinks, cocking his head curiously as the bubbles that make up the shrine begin to break away. This... has maybe been a mistake. It doesn’t seem like a ooh, here comes the Voice omen, more like a ice shelf rising up and swallowing him whole vibe. Still, he keeps still, watching and waiting.

Wraiths rise up around him, both cementing the idea that, yes, this was a fucking mistake, and yes, he’s in some arctic horror movie. Voices rise up, discordant and echoing, whispering and screaming in his head. As one, they call him abomination, and fade as quickly as they’ve come, though they don’t leave Nate with a feeling of fear.

He’s actually pretty pissed. [say]”Well fuck you too!!”[/say] The yell rips over the frozen sea, somehow echoing and muffled all at once. It hadn’t been the answer he’d been looking for, but it was an answer. He’d keep wandering, until he could say he’d seen every godforsaken corner of the ice fields.

Finish (unless for whatever reason this kills him)